Morning

where can we hide the alarm clock sun?
tempting us with truth,
wondering bouyant truth,
boiling red then coming on mid-morning gold
truthfully resembling the spell you hiss between
perfect teeth ...

why when the words won't come
do they drip into buckets of
crumpled paper and deleted files
stoned at your feet,
drawing scattered portraits above the floor;

pour that cup of coffee
and I'll add my own-

life to the mix,
a sick mix of powder and
cold liqour,
lanquidly burning,
thick and slack,
against the back corner
of your eyes,

I've longed, I've remembered
to submerge those eyes I longed for
as long as-memory

for them,
the sun draws itself up
taller than the tallest tall being
in any tall distance,
melting every everything in its waking heat far-off stare,

now it's too late for the moon
and darkness to cover their hearts,
together with shadows reduced to smoking fools,

when the coffee leaves sad rings around your
fingers, when

a babbling sun revolves now before
your simmering room,
blinking at the prostitutes lining the beach,
sweat forcing its way
on your marked brow,
couches receding into the distance,
distance receding before out stretched hand,
truthfully before the wave crashes,
tell me, do you understand
somewhere,
somewhere?

God forbids.